


Strings

by Val9000



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val9000/pseuds/Val9000
Summary: Ianto would take and take and take from Jack until he's completely unravelled. And maybe the most insulting part is, he wouldn't even know it.





	Strings

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those things where you're zoned out daydreaming and then think up a good line and scramble to write it and then the rest of the story comes pouring out. Anyway don't where this came from and it's not really edited but I hope you enjoy it.

Ianto would take and take and take from Jack until he's entirely unravelled. And maybe the most insulting part is, he wouldn't even know it. He has his fingers twisted deep into the strings of Jack's existence and all he has to do is tug slightly in question before Jack's giving him answers. Maybe not the most clear answers, but answers nonetheless. Ianto Jones knows more about him than any other person alive right now. And it's scary that he has such a hold over him - especially considering what Ianto's done in the past. 

But Jack's forgiven him for all that. 

Ianto doesn't pull. Doesn't push. Not as much as everyone else does. Perhaps that's why it works so well - he only ever does it when necessary. He knows when to push and when to leave it be.

It's not puppetry. Ianto doesn't control him. It's more like the opposite of weaving. Or untangling a particularly knotted ball of thread. On his darker days, Jack would call it a Chinese finger trap - except instead of easing his way out and running far, far away, Ianto's trying to break it apart at the seams. 

One day - when Ianto dies - his limp, lifeless hands are going to drag down at Jack's strings where they were tangled, and the thread will rip and snap and Jack will be torn open for everyone to see inside. Torn open until he knits himself back up. Not as easy a feat as his skin knitting itself back together after a physical blow. Not an easy feat at all.

He's not sure how he'll recover. 

One day, this man in front of him - placing coffee on his desk and starting up their verbal dance - will stop. He'll stop being. And Jack's not sure what he'll do without him.


End file.
